


The Noose

by TouchingOldMagic



Series: Ghostbusters 30 Day Challenge [26]
Category: Ghostbusters (1984-1989; 2020), Ghostbusters - All Media Types
Genre: Bust Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:00:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25065793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TouchingOldMagic/pseuds/TouchingOldMagic
Summary: Day 26 of the Ghostbusters 30 Day ChallengePrompt: Nightmare FuelThings go bad on a bust, and Peter's attempts to talk Ray out of trouble backfires.
Relationships: Ray Stantz/Peter Venkman
Series: Ghostbusters 30 Day Challenge [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1779643
Kudos: 22





	The Noose

**Author's Note:**

> Somehow this turned into Peter/Ray fluff by the end. Oops.

Peter decided if he never had to dust off the ole' psychology skills during another bust, that would be just peachy. He wouldn't even complain (much) when there were a lot of stairs. He'd be perfectly happy if the ghosts just stayed easy and boring from now on. It was better than dealing with this.

"Hey buddy, why don't you take a breath--sorry, too soon? Whatever it is you do to calm down, then. You don't wanna do something you regret."

The ghost was mostly human-looking, but soft around the edges. Not insubstantial, but rather like its ectoplasmic skin was the consistency of putty and was starting to run. One eye drooped, giving its face an asymmetrical look, and its hair was plastered down on its head like it had been standing out in the rain. Its entire body gave off a phosphorescent blue glow.

So did the noose around Ray's neck.

The bust had gone bad from the start. The ghost's cat and mouse tactics were more calculated than their usual fare, seeming to take great delight in drawing them out to various rooms in the old bed and breakfast, only to disappear just when they thought they had it cornered. Eventually the four of them had split up to try to pin it down with streams coming from opposite directions, but even their usual pincer tactics weren't working.

They had reconvened in the lobby and Peter hadn't had a sinking feeling until he saw they were down a man. Before they could even radio to find out what was keeping Ray, the ghost announced its presence with a rattling screech of sound that was wordless yet still conveyed its aggravation with them.

The bed and breakfast was in the middle of renovations before opening to the public, but quite a bit of money had gone into the foyer already. It was a good twenty feet across, all nice carpeting, cheery oak desk and heavy drapes, with a stairwell on the left that led up to the second story hallway. A thin and delicately carved wooden railing was all that separated the second floor landing from a fall to the foyer below.

The screech came from the landing above them, the sudden proximity of the spook sending the PKE meter wailing. Their eyes were dragged upward to find the ghost hovering in the air. It had dragged Ray up onto the railing to balance precariously, holding the Ghostbuster's hands behind his back. That hold--and the noose--were the only things keeping Ray from taking a plunge over the side to the floor below.

Despite the fact that the tail end of the rope floated in the air behind Ray's head on its own like a demented kite, Ray's expression made it very clear how tight it was. His lips moved as he struggled to speak to them, but no sound emerged.

Peter pushed forward to address the aggravated spirit.

"All right. Let's all keep calm here. Look, I'm putting my thrower away." He slid it into its home over his shoulder, holding up his hands.

The ghost glared down at them. Despite being slightly smaller than Ray, its form didn't waver or budge as Ray struggled to pull free of its tight grip. Peter gave a brief hand gesture to tell him to stop moving around, though he wasn't sure how well he could see them from his forced vantage point above.

"So what's the big message, buddy?" Peter asked the spirit lightly. His tone was betrayed by the intensity on his face. "You got something you want to say? Cuz we're listening."

The ghost opened its mouth, but the only thing that emerged was a choking rattle, angry and sharp.

Peter frowned. "Well can't say I know that one. Maybe if you hum a few bars, I can fake it."

The ghost garbled a reply that sounded like a breathless shout and it shoved Ray forward, into open air. For a moment his arms flailed and reached for his neck, expression panicked, before he dropped like a stone.

" _Dah!_ " Peter bolted forward. He was under the falling form in two steps, hands raised above his head, desperate to catch him before the noose snapped taut. He got his hands awkwardly under Ray's boots and pushed upward, taking the full brunt of the weight of his teammate and partner. Peter's knees almost buckled before he locked them, grunting with the effort, arms and shoulders shaking.

"Winston!" Egon barked urgently, taking aim at the spirit. "Trap the ghost. Quickly!"

"But--" Winston's gaze went to Peter and his struggling grip, instincts telling him to go help.

"NOW. It can't materialize extraneous manifestations in the trap."

Winston's eyes widened and he nodded, the plan now clear.

If the ghost resumed the tactics it had been applying all morning, it would have been able to evade two streams. But it was too set on watching its victim writhe like a worm on the end of a hook. A pair of streams shot out simultaneously and the two Ghostbusters were able to snare the specter while it was distracted.

It raged when it was caught, the mostly human features melting further into something more monstrous, with bulging eyes and an elongated chin. Winston held the bucking, snarling thing while Egon threw the trap, and the foyer lit up with a cone of white light.

As soon as the trap snapped shut there was a loud thump. Winston and Egon shot over to help the others, who were now in a pile on the carpeted floor.

Ray had landed on top of Peter, immediately exploding into a coughing fit and clutching at his throat. Peter had him in a death grip, but he released him when he saw Egon bend over to check on him. The physicist helped Ray roll off of Peter and sat him down on the carpet, examining him while Ray struggled to regain his breath.

"You okay, man?" Winston asked, helping Peter to his feet.

"Uh huh. Nice shooting," muttered Peter, but his eyes were on Ray.

Winston patted the psychologist's shoulder after he made sure he was steady on his feet. It was clear where Peter's attention was. "He's okay, guy's got a head harder than yours," Winston said, with a purely relieved grin.

\--

That night Ray rolled over in bed, paused a moment, then carefully shifted to a different position, trying to get comfortable. He debated getting a bag of peas from the freezer but realized he'd probably doze off and wake up in a puddle of defrosted pea juice.

The bruising was pretty colorful. He hoped it would look a bit better by morning, otherwise he was going to be reduced to wearing turtlenecks for the next couple days. And he looked really bad in a turtleneck.

The phone rang. He sat up and reached for it on the nightstand, relieved to have something to do. The cord was permanently stretched out from him dragging it around the room each time he took a call; he was never good at sitting still during a conversation.

"Stantz," he said into the receiver, deciding offhand that his voice didn't sound too bad. Most people would probably think he was getting over a cold.

"Hey," a voice said shortly.

A smile grew on Ray's face. "Hey," he said in return, leaning back on his pillows and getting comfortable.

"That was pretty quick, I dunno if that was even one whole ring," Peter teased.

Ray didn't want to say he had been expecting Peter to call, though he had. He got cranky if he thought he was getting predictable. "Phone's right next to the bed," Ray said nonchalantly, instead.

"Uh huh. And you usually answer the phone at night when you can barely talk?"

"I'm fine. It sounds worse than it feels," he reassured his partner. "What're you still doing up?"

"Oh, you know, night time is when I do my best thinking."

"Yeah, I can't sleep either," Ray said, translating the Peter-speak out of habit.

Most people might avoid talking about a recent traumatic experience, but most people were not Ray Stantz. He launched into a detailed recount of how he had been attempting to draw the spirit into a conversation when he had been grabbed (though he had already gone over it with the team after the bust). His working theory was that the ghost was infuriated that it could no longer communicate as it did when it was alive, so talking to it only riled it up. Peter let Ray talk himself out, but noted that it took less time than normal.

"From now on you leave the negotiations to me. That's what I get paid for," he said sternly.

"Sure thing, Pete," Ray meekly agreed, knowing Peter blamed himself.

Peter sighed. He didn't believe him for a moment.

There was silence on the phone for a moment. Peter cleared his throat. "I was thinking maybe I could come over. It's late, but..." He made a sound that translated to a shrug. "If you could put up with seeing me, anyway."

The uncharacteristic uncertainty made Ray's smile widen. "You can come over whenever you want, Peter," he said honestly. "I always want to see you."

There was a strangled sound in the receiver and Ray almost laughed. Whenever he said something particularly sappy, Peter got an expression on his face that was equal parts exasperated and touched, and Ray knew he was making it now. "Right, see you soon." He hung up so quick in embarrassment that Ray didn't even get a chance to say goodbye.


End file.
